Coconut Island
by ALC Punk
Summary: The war is over, now Samantha Carter wants something else with her life. Sam&Jack leanings.
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimers: Not mine. Rating: PG13/R. Set: Future season, contains spoilers for both season 8 of SG-1 and season 1 of Atlantis. Notes: This is... Well, it was an idea that hit me during the communal watching of Affinity at A.j.'s. The one where Timey yelled at the screen at Sam about how if she said yes she'd end up faking her own death and... running a scooter shop in Wyoming. Sigh. They are SUCH bad influences on me. As a sidenote: About halfway through, this story did a sideways turn that... well, it works in my HEAD but it might not work in reality. The title (and 'Anna') are a direct reference to the Counting Crows song 'Anna Begins' which played in the car on the way back from A.j.'s at least, well, a lot... Victor, Kathy and Troy are Timey's. I borrow them.  
  
Here's hoping this hangs together...  
  
Coconut Island by Ana Lyssie Cotton  
  
It's two months and five days after the universe becomes safe from the goa'uld that Samantha Shanahan (nee Carter) perishes in a car accident.  
  
She leaves behind a grieving husband, three vaguely close friends, Cassandra Fraiser, and many acquaintances. Also, an adoring public that watched her career through the lense of the Stargate program. They all mourn.  
  
--  
  
Wyoming in the fall is shades of brown and gold. Dead grass, wind-swept sand, trees that seem as if they should be dead from the way they're withered. Leaves crunch under feet and the air drains the moisture from your skin before it can re-acclimate. Sometimes, she misses the color green.  
  
She calls herself Anna Smith. It's a ruse, but she's used to them. Hiding in some way is what she's always done best.  
  
The little shop Barrett helped her invest in takes nearly a month before it gets off the ground. She struggles with everyday things. Dealing with inquisitive children and nosy adults. Learning to remember that she doesn't have to jump every time someone calls for help. The shrieks of playing children only vaguely disconcert her at the end of two weeks.  
  
Her first letter from Cassie arrives shortly after Victor her new landlord gives her an extra week to get the rest of her rent together.  
  
She reads it sitting in the middle of the neglected garden outside the small guest house she contracted for. Curls up in the sunlight and wonders if it would have been better. And then she sees the insects rustling through the grass and feels the breeze slip through her hair, reads Cassie's half-scolding "I love you", and knows.  
  
It is better this way.  
  
Half a day later, she discovers that Victor must like her. It's the first time he's asked her to watch Troy for longer than the few minutes it takes him to poke around the scooter shop. Three year olds should not be putting engine parts in their mouths.  
  
"It's just for the night," he says, lips and eyes in a cute little-boy with his hand caught in a cookie jar look. "Kathy and I need to go out. Be all romantic and mushy at each other."  
  
So she says, "Sure." And then becomes terrified. "But... leave me a list of numbers and. Uh. Instructions. Kids, I mean--"  
  
"Troy's three." His voice sounds amused and reassuring at once, "Just don't let him blow up anything or eat too much sugar and you'll be fine."  
  
She's not fine. She's completely and utterly screwed. But she copes. Learns too late that three year olds are masters at deception and still manages to get the living room back into some semblance of order by the time Kathy and Victor return.  
  
After accepting their thanks, she escapes. Desperately hoping they never saw the peanut butter in her hair.  
  
--  
  
Three and a half months after what the media are calling "V-Day" (to the irritation of World War veterans--or their descendants), the negotiations begin again for an Earth-Tok'ra alliance. This time, the footing is much more level.  
  
Working on the treaty are Dr. Daniel Jackson and General Jacob Carter.  
  
--  
  
Mechanical things have always been easier to understand than humans.  
  
Observation has shown her things, interaction, others. But there are times when she simply does not get human beings.  
  
She can watch Victor and Kathy, and even though they're not married, she can see the bond that runs between them. On some level, she recognizes it. On another, she feels completely wistful. This is what she gave up.  
  
There are days that carburetors, tourists, engine grease in her hair and broken bits of metal just aren't enough. And then some new and excited person will arrive, will distract her from the darkness in her own mind, the doubts that plague. And she'll wish for a moment that she chose that desert island Barrett had originally suggested.  
  
But she would have been so lonely.  
  
She gets combustion engines, spark plugs, coils and oil changes.  
  
Pliers are a mechanic's best friend, and she has many. She's not sure what people are a mechanic's best friend, but sometimes the kids think she's neat. Maybe it's the way they make her smile.  
  
Victor sometimes teases her of being a grease monkey. Kathy rolls her eyes at that. She likes Kathy. Likes that the woman has never pried and appreciates her randomly showing up with food. The excuse is always easy to accept. "You're too thin, Anna."  
  
Tired, really. But she is also too thin. And so she eats what she's given, and sometimes is more grateful than she expects to be.  
  
Simple human kindnesses also confuse her.  
  
Waking up to brown hair and green eyes confuses her less and less, but sometimes she gets dizzy from trying to look at the tattoo they gave her in the middle of her back. The mole used to be her defining naked quantity. Now it's a Celtic cross done in black and green. Barrett wanted her to be a redhead. She almost decked him. With her skin tone, brown was just about workable. Dark brown or red would have left her either washed out or noticeable. And that's the whole point of this. To remain unremarkable and unidentifiable and safe.  
  
And free.  
  
--  
  
5 months after the world is saved, Brigadier General Jack O'Neill steps down as head of the SGC. In his place are the two men he suggested appointing. Colonel Paul Davis and Doctor Daniel Jackson. The Colonel was on the fast-track and only spent eight months as a Lieutenant Colonel before getting this promotion. Speculation is that he'll be a one-star General before a year has passed.  
  
Most people figure O'Neill is off to fish his retirement away in Minnesota.  
  
--  
  
The day after the stupid car accident, Victor is at the shop with two mugs of coffee. He hands one to her silently, then leans against the oven she's pulling apart for what the local kids think is an art project. But she's bored, and if there were naquadah around... But there isn't.  
  
"Made a phone call this morning."  
  
"Oh?" She blinks, because she can't think of any reason for him to be telling her this. It's not like there's--ok, so there is a sordid past, but it's not the sort of thing she thinks anyone would seriously consider when it comes to her.  
  
"Kathy ran your blood work at the hospital last night."  
  
Damn. She closes her eyes. "I told them I was fine. They didn't have any--"  
  
"You were unconscious."  
  
A hand through her now tri-colored hair (Troy likes green paint. Green, hair-staining, paint). "Okay. Fine. What does my blood have to do with anything? I wasn't drinking or doing drugs, so I'm clear there. And it was honestly the other driver's fault." And she'd feel guilty that he's still in the hospital with a concussion, except she no longer has a car.  
  
"You had one or two anomalies. She thought it might be life-threatening until she got a closer look." He pauses to sip his coffee.  
  
She fights the incipient urge to fiddle with something. Fiddling was never her response before she met the Colonel (General now, of course--and isn't that still shocking). And even then, it was always him, and his wandering fingers--damn klepto. He broke things, too. Except she doesn't really want to think about him. She really ought to be focusing on Victor, who's looking oddly grim.  
  
"It took some digging, but I have my ways." Another shift, and he's not really looking at her now as he stares at the wall opposite him. "I suppose my only question might be why, but then, I've never questioned much. Perhaps a better question is, will you be ok?"  
  
"Erm." She doesn't know what he knows and she's not going to help. "I have no idea what you're talking about."  
  
"Fair enough." One hand toys with the half-ripped-off oven knob. "Just... don't hesitate to ask. If you need it."  
  
He's being genuine, and again she's confused and rattled. He could so easily destroy her solitude and life, and he isn't doing that. In fact, he's offering to help, and he probably has not an inkling of what he's offering. Her mouth opens and closes, then opens again. "Thank you." That almost came out graceful.  
  
A half-grin touches his lips. "But I ain't callin' you Anna anymore. Sam."  
  
Oh. Her eyes widen, and she blinks. It's... been a while. Cassie's letters might start "Dear Sam," but that's not spoken. Hearing her real name spoken is like feeling rain on parched lips. For a moment, there's a dangerous part of her that simply wants to tell him everything. To let him understand. But that's wild and crazy and stupid. "All right."  
  
"We still on for tonight?"  
  
Oh. Right. Troy. And she would have to figure out how to keep him out of trouble. Again. She isn't looking forward to it. Really. "Yup."  
  
"Cool." She makes a mental note to pack a sweater (the evenings are chilly still). An old one.  
  
--  
  
As with all things, fate decrees that six months after the world is saved (the media are still feeding on the frenzy of General O'Neill's retirement and bouncing around speculations that he's running a commune filled with teens) five men are killed in a multi-car pileup on I-70 outside of Denver, Colorado. Among the dead are Pete Shanahan and his partner Marcus Pryde.  
  
In a bizarre coincidence, retired General Jack O'Neill dies in his sleep nine days later. The media feeds on it for a while, then gets distracted by the Tok'ra stalking out of the treaty talks. Dr. Daniel Jackson promises they'll be back.  
  
--  
  
It's actually warmer on the day the world falls down around her ears. Short sleeves and ripped jeans (not Troy's fault, these belong to the accidental spill one night she was a little too drunk to ride home) are more comfortable with the windows open wide.  
  
The bell ringing from the front nearly makes her drop the piece she's working on and her distracted yell of, "Hang on!" is nearly lost in the din as she welds the last line.  
  
She really isn't sure why she never expected something like this. But her hands still, the rag half-covered with oil hanging motionless in the air as she stares at him. His hands are in his pockets, and the pose is achingly familiar. "Jack."  
  
"Shanahan's dead."  
  
The words are abrupt and they drain her of color (as if him being there didn't disconcert her enough, why the hell is he there telling her that Pete's dead?). She wonders if this is some sort of cruel joke or mis-chance. "Did it have to be you?" Her voice cracks. She's rusty at dealing with him, at shoving everything she really feels into a tiny box. Troy, for instance, demands instant affection. And she can give that to him. Victor and Kathy are simple and uncomplicated. This man is not and never has been.  
  
His laugh cracks through the shop. "So. Scooters... what's that about?"  
  
Fine. "I like them."  
  
"They're not--" He is going to mock her, say something cruel and painful.  
  
But Kathy must have some freaky sixth sense because she's suddenly walking in the front door carrying what has to be lunch. Sam doesn't recall asking her to bring lunch, but she's grateful. "Sam, hon, I was wondering..." Her voice trails off as she takes in Sam's visitor. "Am I interrupting something?"  
  
Yes. No. Please dear god, make him go away. Which is ironic as fuck considering he's most of the reason she's running a rental/repair shop for scooters and bicycles and anything else that crosses her path.  
  
"Not really." He looks suddenly like he wants to leave. But he doesn't. Instead he looks between the two of them, and waits.  
  
There's more awkward silence, and she remembers the rag in her hand, flips it over and studies the splotches of oil. Some of them are darker than blood.  
  
"So... this is you, now."  
  
"Yep."  
  
Kathy has remained watching them, head tilted to one side. "Sam?"  
  
"It's all right." She meets the other woman's eyes. "He's just going." She turns to him. "Aren't you, Jack." No question, because she wants him there and doesn't, and he needs to leave for her to get her equilibrium back.  
  
"Am I?"  
  
There are multiple layers to his question, and she realizes something that scares her almost more than the planet being destroyed while she can't do anything about it. He has still waited. Three years of marriage to another man, countless moments when she pretended there wasn't anything there. And he has still... stayed. Not moved on. And now she's dead. "Jack..." She stumbles, uncertain what to say. Because he can't have waited. This would simply be too cruel a joke.  
  
"Or I could come back."  
  
"No." She remembers she's good at making life-changing decisions, now. And since he's obviously not coming to take her back, this is all right.  
  
More awkward silence until he finally seems to have decided what to say. "So. Scooters."  
  
She doesn't bother answering him, just turns away and fiddles with something on the counter. A doo-hickey, he might once have called it. It's a piece of gear, about as far removed from a naquadah reactor as fish are from trees.  
  
Kathy is still looking at them both, and her voice breaks into the silence. "You've forgotten how to talk like real people."  
  
"We never were real," Sam whispers. And the pain at that thought rips through her and she wants to yell at him and throw things and cry and rant and rave. All of these years and there is no special connection, no automatic understanding. It's an uphill battle to even focus back on the shop and away from her inner turmoil. "Change isn't always good."  
  
The look in his eyes is still unfathomable, and he turns it away from her and onto Kathy. "Jack."  
  
"Kathy." She is still sizing him up.  
  
For a horrible moment, Sam wonders if they will ever do anything but circle in the social niceties until they are both old and grey and dead and buried.  
  
The phone rings, breaking the stunted silence into jagged shreds.  
  
"Hello."  
  
"Boo."  
  
A smile breaks through, as the voice of the young woman on the other end of the line brings her back to something more stable. "Cassie."  
  
"Hey, Sam, I was thinking. See, I kind of want to do this one thing, and I talked to my advisor, and--"  
  
"Cassie?" Sam interrupts, laughing softly. "What are you talking about?"  
  
"Transferring schools." The young woman replies promptly, her own tone amused. "I'm just--excited. Because it could be really good for me, and I need some of the classes there, and--"  
  
"Where to?" Patience would always be a virtue when dealing with Cassandra Fraiser.  
  
"Oh. Wyoming."  
  
Silence from both of them. She breathes in. Out. "Anywhere in particular?"  
  
"Well, there's this little town a friend of mine highly recommends. It's about two hours from the university..." Cassie's voice trails off.  
  
"That would," her voice cracks, and she pauses. Conflicting emotions run through her. Back to life, or not. And Cassie near would be nice. A connection to her past, to the memory of Cassie's mother, who had been yet another bond between them. "It would be wonderful."  
  
She realizes that there are tears in her eyes.  
  
"Good. Great." Cassie's breath lets out. "I'll, uh, call you when I have better details. Love you."  
  
"You, too."  
  
-- 


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimers: Previously.  
  
Coconut Island, Chapter Two.  
  
Six months and two weeks after the world is saved, a massive funeral is held to honor retired General Jack O'Neill. As one of the speakers, Dr. Daniel Jackson passes on the knowledge and wit of the great man. He claims that this was the way the man would have wanted to die.  
  
With the world safe and the people he loved living on.  
  
--  
  
Kathy was right. They don't know how to talk to each other like real people anymore. So they simply didn't talk at all.  
  
It takes almost a week before they settle into a routine. The first few days disconcert her when she opens the shop and finds him sitting at her desk.  
  
"You have worse book-keeping skills than me."  
  
A shrug. "Could be worse."  
  
"I don't see how."  
  
"I didn't make rent last week."  
  
"Ah."  
  
Two days later, he has the books in hand, and she's almost used to him being there with coffee. She never asks how he got into the shop in the first place.  
  
He mocks her for only liking the powdered sugar doughnuts. She makes faces at his chocolate-covered ones. Although he also likes hers, and she sometimes has to smack his hand to keep hers safe. She doesn't notice when they get comfortable again.  
  
But it hits her one night, when she's curled up in bed and thinking.  
  
She is content here. Staying in one place does not make her feel lacking. Simply content. And she remembers once being certain that she deserved more.  
  
The next morning, she gets to the shop before him.  
  
"Hey."  
  
She swipes a doughnut, suddenly bashful. It's irritating, this sudden flash of girlyness. She settled, last time. She doesn't want to settle anymore.  
  
He pokes her. "What's up?"  
  
"Why are you here?"  
  
"Uh... I come bearing coffee and doughnuts."  
  
"Yeah." She shifts, because she wants to clarify this, and she doesn't know how to without being blunt. "Jack. Why are you... with me?"  
  
"Shouldn't I be?" There's a sudden depth of meaning in his eyes.  
  
But it's been so long, and she isn't sure she's reading him right anymore, and she doesn't really want to make a mistake. "And Pete?"  
  
"He's dead, Carter."  
  
"Yeah." She looks away, "He is." She wonders if he understands that Pete had been emotionally dead to her for years.  
  
"And you're not."  
  
There's silence again, and she wonders if she's broken whatever fragile thing there was again between them. But she's still got powdered doughnut on her fingers, and he hasn't given her a cup of coffee yet. She points at the cups he's holding in one hand. "Vanilla?"  
  
"Mocha and cinnamon."  
  
"Ah."  
  
"Opening the shop, Carter?"  
  
"Yeah." Once inside she flops into her chair and stares up at the ceiling. "It's all broken and gone, isn't it."  
  
"Carter, speak English."  
  
"Did we--no, that's a stupid question." Dropping her head into her hands, she sighs. "Jack, I'm feeling stupid this morning. Do you love me?"  
  
"Feelin' blunt this morning, too." He observes.  
  
"Yeah." Making herself look up, she meets his eyes. "I am. I... I need to know, I think. And I'm asking without telling." She draws in a breath. "I don't know if I love you or if I did before or if I will. I know I need you, even if you sit in a corner and go mad, or go away and never speak to me again."  
  
"Ah." He shifts, hands twitching, one still wraps around a cup of coffee. "I don't really know."  
  
"Great."  
  
So neither of them knew.  
  
At least that was something.  
  
-  
  
Eight months after the world is safe, the Tok'ra Earth alliance has a minor break-through. All Tok'ra operations in ex-Goa'uld territory will be subject to examination.  
  
Very little is said about what is exchanged for this information.  
  
-  
  
The first time they kiss it's awkward and she nearly jumps out of her skin. One moment, they were talking, the next, there was a mutual distraction and then they leaned in just a bit too much. Lips touched lips, and she waits for the fireworks, and then feels cheated because he doesn't even reach up to cup her cheekbones.  
  
When he pulled back, she gathered her courage and moved, grabbing the lapels of his shirt and pulling. The tug was enough and he meets her lips again. This time, it's less awkward and she leans into him, careful not to be too forward.  
  
His hand catches the back of her shirt, and she finds herself held tightly.  
  
The shop bell ringing interrupts them, makes them jerk apart guiltily.  
  
"Miz Anna?" Mrs. Catherine Spade runs the boarding house up the road. She's older than dirt, and cheerful in her sweetness. "There's--" Her voice pauses as she looks at them, and what might have been a grin touches her weathered lips. "Sorry, child, I thought--"  
  
"No. No. It's all right. What's up?"  
  
Jack wanders away, and she kind of hopes this isn't the last time they do something like that. Because she really really liked it.  
  
And hopes he did, too.  
  
Later, he takes advantage of her hands being buried in a pile of oil and metal and teases his lips across the back of her neck, causing shivers to dance up and down her spine.  
  
"Jack," The catch in her throat does bad things to her competence, but she doesn't care  
  
"Mmm?" He's smiling against her skin, leaning his forehead against the side of her neck while his tongue trails along her collar.  
  
"Stop that."  
  
"Why?"  
  
She can't think of an immediate answer, but she knows it has to do with him being distracting and there being engine parts under her fingers. "I'm busy."  
  
"So?" Oh. Smirk there, too.  
  
A shiver dances through her, and she suddenly realizes that it's been a long time since any man touched her like this. At least with the intention of giving her pleasure and love. Something sad shifts through her. "He smothered me."  
  
The lips on her neck still. "I know," he whispers softly.  
  
Suddenly, she wants to know, "Why didn't you stop me?"  
  
"That's not fair."  
  
"I know." But this man still has the power to hurt her. "Jack."  
  
"Don't." He moves away, strides to the door. "Don't turn this into an ultimatum, Carter. It isn't life or death."  
  
"No." She looks down at her grease-stained hands. "No it isn't."  
  
--  
  
Nine months and 21 days after the world is safe for capitalism, Cassandra Fraiser completes her transfer to University of Wyoming at Laramie. Her double major of Psychology and Philosophy transfer naturally and she picks up a minor in Greek Mythology. When asked by her guidance counselor what she wants to do with her life, she simply says, "Help people."  
  
--  
  
"Hey."  
  
"Hey."  
  
The hug isn't exactly desperate, but she returns it with love. Cassandra smells of sunshine and wheat and growing things, and she's having to continually get used to seeing the way life springs outside her windows.  
  
"I didn't tell Jack." Cassie finally says, breaking the silence. "I told Teal'c."  
  
Sam pulls back and touches the young woman's face and half-smiles. "It's ok." This solitude wouldn't have lasted forever. Especially not now Cassie is here and alive and real and standing in her small shop. Someone would have run into her at some function, or she would have had to simply stay away, and she can't do that to Cassie.  
  
"Like the hair." Laughter crinkles the young woman's eyes.  
  
Kathy had convinced her to go red early last week. Self-consciously, she touches the short strands. "You do?"  
  
"It's weird, but it's kind of you."  
  
"Yeah." She knows the kids find it amusing. Some of the tourists even compliment her on her naturally lovely hair. She tells them she gets it from her Scots ancestor. "Tell me about school."  
  
Cassandra launches into a hundred thousand words on her classes and the social life she may have, and why she thinks that frat parties are boring. Sam listens, remembering her own college days and wondering if she had been more naive then or if it was simply something that came with old age.  
  
Five minutes into this, the shop bell tinkles.  
  
She knows without checking who it is. They've been avoiding each other for weeks now. Seeing only little bits and pieces that they steal out of their days. Kathy told her he's been teaching the kids to play street hockey. With his knees, she hopes he's being careful.  
  
"Hey."  
  
"Jack." Cassandra looks at him for a moment, then half-smiles.  
  
"Cass."  
  
Looking between the two of them, she feels a strange jealousy. Nothing has changed with their relationship. There are no sharp edges to rip their skins to shred at the least expected moments. "I've got to go check something in the back."  
  
She stays back there, sitting in a corner, her knees drawn up. There are no tears because she refuses to cry about this. Refuses to give vent to something so maudlin. Eventually, the shop bell rings.  
  
Cassie finds her a few minutes later. "Still hiding?"  
  
"Yeah." She's more honest now. Perhaps because she's dead in reality, and so she has to be up front with the people she exists around in this half-life.  
  
"What the hell happened, Sam?"  
  
"There was never anything real about what was there." Oh, those words hurt to say. She knows they're true, though. "I built up a dream of what was. So did he. And when it was blasted to smithereens..."  
  
"You're being melodramatic."  
  
"Am I?" She tries to laugh. Fails. "I faked my own death to escape a life that was slowly killing me."  
  
"Yeah." Cass flopped down next to her with a sigh. "Funny. So did Jack."  
  
--  
  
Ten months, 14 days and six minutes after the world doesn't come to an end, the treaty for the new Tok'ra Earth alliance is signed. It's been a long, arduous process, but both sides seem to be happy.  
  
Debuting the night after is a special documentary on the SGC, as seen through the eyes of reporter Emmett Bregman. It contains never before seen footage of the often-mentioned Angel of the SGC, Dr. Janet Fraiser.  
  
--  
  
They at least talk again. It's not flowing, but it's not stilted, either. Common ground in computers and scooters and the occasional sports topic. Sam doesn't really like hockey, but she can get Jack rambling about it for hours. It's a nice counterpoint while she works on scooters or the latest sculpture.  
  
He never asks about them.  
  
Sometimes, she wishes he would. But there's really no point to them, anyway. And so she simply makes them. And sometimes wonders.  
  
They reach a middle ground at some point, where she feels like they are finally friends again. They talk easily about trivialities and serious things. She admits that there are times she regrets where she is. He simply watches her sideways...  
  
Weeks are spent dancing around the topic, until Cassie finally breaks and yells at the both of them to just go on a damned date already.  
  
So they do. And it's awkward and they have no fucking clue what to say each other, until their waiter drops her lasagne on the floor. He apologizes and blushes, and scurries off to get it re-made. And they mock him and each other and settle into something that might almost be normality.  
  
Cassie still thinks they're cute.  
  
The night Bregman's documentary airs, he arrives with a six-pack and a pizza. They watch it, then sit in silence for a very long time.  
  
"I miss her still."  
  
"Yeah." Fingers trail lazily along her arm.  
  
She sighs and leans her head against his shoulder. "This is nice."  
  
"Yep."  
  
By unspoken agreement (and they're finally beginning to have THAT again), they take it no further than that.  
  
--  
  
Eleven months, six hours and ten seconds after the universe is safe for all mankind, contact is re-established with Atlantis.  
  
A lot of information is passed back and forth before the 38 minute window is up. Some of it includes details on the newest threat to humanity.  
  
Humanity isn't worried. It faced down the goa'uld and won, after all.  
  
--  
  
The first time they have sex, they aren't exactly ready for it. It's almost as awkward as their first date, and it's messy and not all-together great. He comes too fast and she comes too slow and she thinks they missed something in the middle. Afterwards, she stares up at him. "That was..."  
  
"Yeah."  
  
She shifts against him, hopeful and unwilling to let this go. Because it wasn't good, but it could be. And she doesn't want to remember that sex with Pete was mechanically fabulous the first time (maybe he was just a better slut). "Let's do that again?"  
  
His head moves to rest on her shoulder. "I'm an old man, Sam. You tryin' to kill me?"  
  
A chuckle escapes her. "Not until we've done this a couple hundred times."  
  
It's the reassurance he needed, apparently.  
  
This time, it's better. Not earth-shattering fire-works better, but she can tell that it will get to that point. And, dear god, she wants it to. Specifically with this man.  
  
Cassie calls her the next morning, and they talk -- disturbingly enough -- about sex. Sometimes it's a stilted conversation, but both of them feel the strange need. Sam probably tells her too many times to use precautions. Cassie doesn't laugh her off, but snarks back that so should Sam.  
  
"Oh." She blushes.  
  
"Don't make me mock you, Sam."  
  
"Never."  
  
She hangs up with a smile and wanders upstairs to introduce the man still sleeping in her bed to breakfast.  
  
The toast ends up burning.  
  
Later, she's flopped across his chest, watching the way her breathing ruffles the hair there. His hand is slowly stroking her head, and they're both just. There. No worries, no ties, no lies and no in-betweens. She doesn't know if she ever wants this to end.  
  
She suddenly wants to talk. "I always used to worry."  
  
"Hrm?"  
  
It's easier, looking at the chest under her head, not his eyes, not the rest of him. "That you'd all figure out what a fraud I was."  
  
The chest shifts, he moves, and she is caught by the fascinating texture of his skin and the way it ripples. "Fraud?"  
  
"McKay was Generally right, you know. I never did anything special, I just hatched half-assed ideas."  
  
"That saved our butts."  
  
She makes a face against his skin, then sighs. "Yeah. But I wasn't always right. I was just lucky."  
  
"We all were lucky." The fingers thread through her hair again.  
  
-- 


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimers: Previously.  
  
Coconut Island, Chapter Three.  
  
Twelve months after capitalism has triumphed once again, and work is still being put into creating a zero-point module to power the gate to the Pegasus galaxy so that fighters and assistance may be sent through for their on-going war with the Wraith.  
  
It's a slow process. Dr. Jackson has been quoted widely in the press as saying that without Lieutenant Colonel Carter, the scientists just aren't working as efficiently.  
  
--  
  
Wyoming in the fall is shades of brown and gold. She's trying desperately not to pay attention to that.  
  
She really can't believe the evidence her eyes are seeing, and so she's working on the assumption that all senses are wrong.  
  
Wyoming isn't brown and gold. It's blue and green and red. And pink.  
  
The phone rings, distracting her.  
  
"Sam?"  
  
"Hey, Cass."  
  
"Listen... I need to come down there and talk to you."  
  
"Okay, hon." She puts aside her own mental problems and sighs. "I'm still at home. Been a bit under the weather the last few days."  
  
"Is Jack there?"  
  
"No." She isn't certain where he's gone, but thinks it might have to do with the newspapers.  
  
Maybe he told more than Teal'c and Cassie about faking his own death.  
  
"I'll be there in about an hour, Sam."  
  
"Okay, hon." Time. That will give her time to recover and try to get her brain working again.  
  
Neither say goodbye, and she drags herself to the bathroom and jumps in the shower and leans against the tiles, wondering why she feels like her world is falling down again.  
  
She's still got her hair up in a towel, but at least she's dressed, when Cassandra arrives. The young woman makes them tea, her movements agitated and distracted. Sam only really notices when boiling water gets spilled all over the counter.  
  
"What's the matter?" Dragged from her own reverie, she steps closer, automatically finding the towel and laying it out to soak up the water.  
  
"I..."  
  
They clean up the steaming water in silence, each struggling and lost in her own thoughts.  
  
Cassie finally breaks the tension, turns and says, "I think I might be pregnant."  
  
"You, too?" The words are out before she can stop them or take off the hysterical and sarcastic edge.  
  
"What?" Cassandra stares at her, eyes slowly widening. "Sam? Did you and Jack--and you were telling ME to use protection." The young woman eyes her, amusement warring with something else in her eyes.  
  
"I thought I was too old for this sort of thing!" Why does she feel the need to defend this? Maybe she's just being an idiot. Or she's insane. Or frantic. None of the above? "Anyway. Why do you think you are?"  
  
"Been sick, and the condom broke on us last week."  
  
So much more than she wants to know, probably. "Have you taken a kit?"  
  
"No. I was... hoping it wouldn't come to that."  
  
"C'mon." There were three kits in the package she bought, she drags Cassie to the bathroom and hands her one. "It's simple. Come back down for tea when you're done."  
  
So she makes the tea, because it's something domestic and efficient she can do. It requires very little brain activity however. And she finds herself thinking. Cassie has sex. It's disturbing to think of the child she once fed a hot dog sans bun as someone who has sex. She supposes this is how parents feel (although she SO doesn't want to think about her dad and Selmak having sex) when they learn a child is having sex. Dear god, she really did need to stop thinking about it. This was pathetic.  
  
"Sam?"  
  
Turning, she finds Cassie leaning against the doorway, looking small. Which is strange since she's a tall girl. "It'll be all right, honey."  
  
"I'm not pregnant."  
  
She looks lost, so Sam steps up to her, catches her in a hug. "Did you want to be?"  
  
"No. I just..." Her voice thick with emotion, Cassandra begins to cry softly. "I feel stupid, but I was so worried and now I'm not. And you..."  
  
"Yeah." The pink plus sign had been a dead giveaway that her life was never going to be normal.  
  
"I'm sorry, Sam." Cassie sniffles, "Are you happy?"  
  
Happy? She isn't sure what she is anymore. "I don't know."  
  
"Does... Does Jack know?"  
  
"No." She wants, suddenly, not to have to tell him. Not to have this thing hanging over her head that alters her perception of reality and time and space. "I just found out this morning."  
  
"You're going to tell him, though, right?"  
  
"Of course."  
  
The young woman pulls away from her, and snorts softly. "If you haven't told him by tomorrow, I will."  
  
She considers letting Cassie do that. But this is her life, and she'll be damned if she lets someone else live it for her. "No. I'll tell him."  
  
It takes her three hours of working in the shop to work up the courage. He's been there since she finally made it in that morning, and didn't even mock her for being late. Cassie went back to school (she has a test in the afternoon), and she's alone with him in the main room.  
  
"Carter, whatever it is, just tell me already."  
  
Oooh. He's in a blunt mood. And suddenly, so is she. She's an adult, for crying out loud. And way older than she'd thought she'd be when saying this. "I'm pregnant."  
  
He's gaping.  
  
Ok. Maybe she shouldn't have been quite that blunt.  
  
"Really, Jack." She holds his eyes while wiping her hands clean. "I was suspicious, so I checked this morning. And. I am pregnant."  
  
"But, we..."  
  
"Yeah." She grimaces. "I didn't think about it that first time, either." Protection hadn't been on her mind--and if it had, she would have thought she was too old for it to matter.  
  
"Will you be okay?"  
  
"I--will you?" This is new ground for them. They have carefully not talked about the future, and now it's being thrust into their laps.  
  
"Yes." She doesn't care if she's lying (which she could be).  
  
--  
  
One year, three days and ten minutes after the free world believes in peace. Colonel Paul Davis announces his impending engagement to Sarah Gardner. Only those closest to the program understand how much strain this causes.  
  
--  
  
"You've been a father before." Not what she wants to say. Because it's almost an accusation, and she knows how he stopped being a father, and doesn't want to hurt him. They can't seem to not hurt each other. Although perhaps that's only the hormones coursing through her.  
  
His head is resting on her shoulder, one hand tracing lazy designs on the skin of her stomach. "Yes."  
  
"That came out wrong, I'm--"  
  
"It's all right." The hand stills. "You need to see a doctor."  
  
"There are pre-natal vitamins." She can't go to a doctor. Not with naquadah and a protein marker that show her as not-human. And she refuses to let anyone know she's less than human. Even if the NID might not be interested.  
  
"You're going to a doctor." The firmness in his tone says he refuses to argue.  
  
"I can't."  
  
"Why not?" The hand is pressing down slightly, as if he's trying to keep himself in contact with reality.  
  
Or maybe it's keeping her anchored in it. "They'll know I'm not who I say I am."  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"The protein marker Jolinar left."  
  
A tension slides through his body, and she knows it's because he doesn't like being reminded of that.  
  
"I'll make some phone calls, see if I can't--"  
  
"No." Her hand touches his, moves and interlaces their fingers. "I'm going to call Barrett."  
  
"Good."  
  
--  
  
One year, three months, and the world is still waiting for the newly up-graded ZPMs to be completed so that the Atlantis base can be reached.  
  
A collective sigh of happiness takes hold during the wedding of Colonel Davis and Sarah Gardner. Dr. Jackson is notable only by his absence.  
  
--  
  
She knew this would happen, eventually. But she'd hoped it would be later. Or never.  
  
Daniel Jackson looks almost gaunt as she spots him across the quad. Cassie had asked her to come by for a visit. Something about needing moral support before a mid-term. Or maybe because Cassie was a meddler and she wanted the people she loved to be whole. She wonders if the gauntness is simply the rigors of command or if he's slowly wasting away with the desertion by his friends.  
  
There's no way to avoid meeting him, so she simply waits until he's close enough to see her. "Hey."  
  
There's a strange look in his eyes. "Sam."  
  
"Daniel." Now she's wondering if this is Jack rubbing off (not that she minds the rubbing), or if she has to affirm that it's him before they can move a step further.  
  
"So."  
  
"Yeah." She considers apologizing, but she's not really sorry for leaving. "How've you been?"  
  
"Isn't that my line?"  
  
Ah. There is the snippiness she was expecting. "Maybe." She tries for a middle ground, something they can talk about. "How's Sarah?"  
  
"Married."  
  
Shit. She'd forgotten. "I'm..."  
  
"Don't say you're sorry, Sam."  
  
"I'm not."  
  
He flinches slightly, as if there is suddenly too much sun and wind and rain on his skin. "Why'd you leave, Sam?"  
  
"I was over and done with. We'd saved the world, the universe, Daniel. And I was so tired."  
  
He looks away, rubs his thumb restlessly over the other fingers in his fist. "You left. You didn't even have the decency to say goodbye."  
  
"No. I didn't. Neither did Janet." It's a harsh thing to say, especially considering the way the doctor had died. She wouldn't be coming back. Sam had. But she refuses to take it back.  
  
"And that just makes it all better?" There is bitterness in his tone.  
  
"No. Yes. I don't..." He is making it hard, but she is making it harder. And perhaps she deserved this after everything she'd done.  
  
"I'm sorry," the sarcasm in his tone bites deeply, "Am I making this hard for you?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"You died. How am I supposed to make this easier, Sam?"  
  
"I don't know." her voice is soft with sudden exhaustion.  
  
"I just... I don't understand it, Sam. You just left. Everything--us, the mountain... Pete."  
  
She knows what he's going to say next, lets him say it.  
  
"You broke his heart, Sam."  
  
"I broke a lot of hearts, Daniel." She isn't going to elaborate.  
  
"So. Cassie called you?"  
  
"Yeah. We should find her."  
  
Later, when Cassie is done being smug about her double-crossing, she takes the young woman aside. "You're evil."  
  
"So? Did you tell him about Jack?"  
  
"I think he already knows."  
  
"Ah. And--" Cassie gestures.  
  
The pregnancy doesn't exactly show yet, although she's definitely had cravings. And she's been lucky in only getting intermittent morning sickness. It makes running the scooter shop easier. "No. I... I suppose I should ask Jack first."  
  
"Ask Jack first what?"  
  
"Nothing." She looks at Cassie, then sighs. "I should be going. I need... I need to go home."  
  
-- 


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimers: Previously.  
  
Coconut Island, Chapter Four.  
  
One year, four months and five days after the free world learns of the Stargate program, and the scientists still haven't quite cracked the ZPM problem. Not for lack of trying, however.  
  
--  
  
They tell Daniel together.  
  
It's strange and weird and frightening, but they do it, standing almost at attention while he paces their living room. Theirs, because Jack moved in two months ago with the logic that if she was going to be pregnant he was going to spoil her.  
  
Kathy thinks it's cute.  
  
"You're--well, I suppose that's not much of a surprise."  
  
No, it probably isn't. At least, not after the initial surprise of her being alive still. And Jack knowing about it. And Cassie and Teal'c. And Barrett. But she rarely mentions him.  
  
"I need to ask you a favor."  
  
She blinks at him. "What?"  
  
He's nervous, hands fiddling with a pen while he looks away. "It's the Atlantis expedition. We can't get their schematics of a ZPM to work properly."  
  
"And?" She prompts him when he remains silent.  
  
Jack's hand is playing with the back of her hair, and it's vaguely distracting because he keeps brushing his thumb against the skin of her neck. And she really really wants Daniel to get this over and done with so they can do -- other things.  
  
"Dr. McKay said it was a pity you were dead, since you were about the only one he thought could do it. Other than him, of course."  
  
"Of course." The sarcasm is there, but she knows that if McKay figured it out, she might be able to.  
  
"So, I..." Daniel sighs, scrubs a hand over his face. "I'm sorry, Sam. I don't want you to think I'm using you. But we could really use your help."  
  
"Huh? Daniel, I'm dead, I can't--"  
  
"Not going back. Just," he pauses then pulls his briefcase up onto the coffee table and pops it open. "I have this disk. If you could just look at it, maybe run some simulations. Maybe you'll see something they've missed."  
  
And she wants to take it, she realizes suddenly. The opportunity to poke at new technology, to run simulations and permutations and hand-code math graphs. "Ok. I can't promise anything."  
  
"It's all right." A slight smile touches his lips, "It's not like before, is it."  
  
She understands suddenly that he misses her. "Would you like to stay for dinner? Jack's cooking chicken and pasta."  
  
The hand on the back of her neck stills.  
  
"God, no. Jack's cooking? Sam, you aren't trying to kill me, are you?"  
  
She smiles. "No, Daniel, I'm not."  
  
A chuckle escapes him, and he stands. "It's a nice offer, but I've got to get back."  
  
"The strain of command," Jack says dryly.  
  
"Yeah."  
  
The three of them stand awkwardly before Sam snorts. "C'mere, you two."  
  
The hug is awkward and weird with all three of them and then it resolves, and she sighs. "I missed this."  
  
Daniel kisses her cheek and steps back. "So did I. E-mail me or something, Sam."  
  
"Willdo."  
  
Jack's arm stays around her waist as Daniel walks out the door. No longer the young archeologist they once knew he is now old and grey, tired with the life he has led. Another sigh escapes her. "We did this to him."  
  
"No." Jack's arm tightens. "He did this to himself. We only added to it, Carter."  
  
They don't say anything else for a while, simply content to stand (and then sit, and then flop) there, basking in each other's presence. Until her stomach gurgles.  
  
"Is that commentary on something, Carter?"  
  
She chuckles and tugs at the hair she's been slowly running her fingers through. "You promised me food."  
  
"You trust my cooking?" He's smirking up at her.  
  
"Yes."  
  
--  
  
One year, four months and six days after the world is declared safe for everyone, and the world powers are still bickering softly amongst themselves.  
  
The Tok'ra are scheduling their first official ambassadorial visit, and they want to visit everyone.  
  
--  
  
"You've missed this." He's leaning against the back of her chair, chin on the top of her head. His voice rumbles down through her.  
  
She considers carefully. "Yes. I... I didn't mean to."  
  
A soft chuckle escapes him. "Sam, I never thought you would be happy without technology to poke at."  
  
"I was. I--I am."  
  
"But you still miss it."  
  
She sighs. "I do now, apparently." She taps a few more keys, bringing up a different schematic. "Aha."  
  
"Aha?"  
  
"I know where they went wrong. And McKay was being deliberately obtuse, the smug bastard."  
  
"Ah."  
  
He is thinking, she decides, and she suddenly isn't sure about what. "Jack?"  
  
"This... Daniel..." He moves away from her, stops speaking and just gestures randomly.  
  
For a moment, she sits there and looks at him, trying to understand what the problem is. "Daniel? What is it?" Neither have ever been very good at being articulate about their feelings, and she knows this about both of them, but his uncertainty scares her. "Jack, just tell me."  
  
"I'm not ready to be a father."  
  
The words blurt out into the air between them, and she blinks, and then just stares at him.  
  
Finally, she finds thought and breath enough to ask, "What?"  
  
"Daniel being here. It makes it all real." He scrubs a hand over his face and sighs, looking agitated and lost and upset. "Last time around--"  
  
"Last time around it wasn't me." Sam informs him firmly, standing and crossing her arms. "And you weren't alone, and you were a damn good father--"  
  
"But--"  
  
"NO." She doesn't stamp her foot, although it's tempting. "Don't be an idiot, Jack. One careless mistake doesn't condemn you for life."  
  
"It should."  
  
She closes her eyes, grabs at the edges of her sanity and reaches out to him. "I need you here, Jack. As the father of my child, as my lover, as the man I love, as--" Her words stop, because she isn't sure what else to say, that will make the haunted and strained look go away. Because she hopes to have the words to heal him, but he might never be healed. And that scares her, because she needs him.  
  
His hand catches hers, and he tugs, pulling her against him and setting his forehead against hers. "Ok." He draws in a shuddering breath, then lets it out. "I think... I think I can handle this."  
  
"And if you can't?"  
  
The grip on her hand tightens almost painfully. "I'll have to."  
  
--  
  
One year, five months and two days after the world is safe from communism, the new zero point modules are put into use in a series of tests which culminates in opening a gate to the Pegasus galaxy for the first time in four years. The ensuing discussion is carried on whilst piles and piles of equipment, munitions, and food are sent through on crawlers and the backs of people being sent to back up those already there.  
  
Of particular note is the repeated insistence that Atlantis remain autonomous and run by Dr. Weir, and not by the military. The SGC is agreeable.  
  
--  
  
Barrett arrives on a Monday. Sam has always hated Mondays, especially the kind that are windy and cold and make her want to stay in bed. But Jack told her to get her pathetic ass down to the shop, because there might be customers. And, anyway, she's the sole bread-winner, here.  
  
"They've figured it out." No preamble, but he's looking worried, shifty.  
  
"What?"  
  
"The press are already on their way, I think I've got -- maybe -- an hour on them. Just enough time to pack and go."  
  
She doesn't want to comprehend what he's saying. "Barrett--"  
  
"Someone hacked my account, Sam. Someone very very good knows that you're alive and living here. They've alerted the press to track you down."  
  
It had to have been someone good. She'd written the security protocols on his computer. "Shit."  
  
"The only good thing is that they don't know you're pregnant."  
  
She can hear his unspoken 'yet'. "And Jack?"  
  
"Him, too."  
  
"Fine." She grabs the phone, dials.  
  
"Hi."  
  
"Jack? I'm feeling extra icky this morning. I'm coming home. Think you can start packing to head to the cabin this weekend?"  
  
"Sam?"  
  
"They've found us." She doesn't bother saying goodbye, simply hangs up. "C'mon."  
  
--  
  
One year, five months, and six days... the news breaks that Lieutenant Colonel Samantha Shanahan has been alive and well, living in a small town in Wyoming with her polygamist husband, retired Brigadier General Jack O'Neill. The SGC could not be reached for comment.  
  
The media frenzy spreads into orgiastic masturbation before it begins to feed on itself as rumors fly, and the two are nowhere to be found.  
  
--  
  
She insists on saying goodbye to Victor and Kathy, and drags Jack with her because they liked him, too.  
  
Victor only raises an eyebrow when she thanks him for everything. "We'll miss you, Sam."  
  
"Thanks." She surprises them by hugging both tightly, and then leaning down to kiss Troy. He makes an icky face and declaims 'girl germs'. "We, uh... There's going to be media."  
  
"Figured." Victor shifts in front of her eyes, suddenly looks less intelligent and more... like an itinerant farm hand. "Well," he said, his accent thick, "they left about three weeks ago. Nice couple. Don't know why theys gone. And, say, you wouldn't happen to know of anyone lookin' fer a place to rent?"  
  
She laughs, Jack simply looks at him, then half-nods.  
  
Kathy smiles, "You two take care." She catches Sam in another hug, then pulls back and blinks, "Just a moment."  
  
While they stand there, waiting, Sam is certain she can feel Barrett's impatience all the way in here. Kathy returns and hands Sam a small green rattle. "Here."  
  
"Uh..." They haven't told anyone, so it's kind of a surprise, and she looks uncertainly at the other woman. Of course, the fact that Sam is beginning to show (more than show. She's starting to wonder if this child is going to be as large as a house) should have clued her in that Kathy would Know.  
  
"Jack's got the same look Victor did when I was carrying Troy. Three parts terror, one part insane fear, and one part smug bastard." And Kathy winks. And the whole looking like a house thing. Right.  
  
"Oh. Thank you."  
  
And they leave, because they have to. As they drive out of town they see news vans arriving, reporters and crew beginning to go from shop to shop and house to house, searching for the suddenly found.  
  
She stops looking once they hit the interstate.  
  
Both she and Jack insist on stopping in Laramie to see Cassie. They're lucky, she's in her room studying when they reach the campus. Without a word, she hugs them both and half-cries when they tell her they don't know when they'll see her next. Barrett simply wants to get them away, to a safe house, or something.  
  
It's not that either believes they're in danger from the media. But they have made their choices and moved on, and they don't need this intrusion. Barrett also thinks there might be a faction that would try to seize the child and experiment on it. After all, it will have naquadah in its veins and Jack O'Neill's genes -- and the Asgard prized them enough to try cloning him.  
  
They talk as they drive, and finally agree to the safe house. As long as it isn't one anyone knows about. Barrett calls them both difficult and stops listening to them while he drives. Sam falls asleep sometime around Billings.  
  
When Jack wakes her, it's completely dark and she's cranky and hungry and her neck has a crick in it.  
  
The second is remedied when Jack hands her a container of slightly cold fries. He looks apologetic when she death-glares at him. They stopped for food and didn't wake her?  
  
He makes it up to her by carefully rubbing the crick from her neck and kissing her. She likes kissing Jack, but it doesn't quite make up for not being fed properly. After all, she's eating for two here, or has he forgotten?  
  
Barrett finally stops and lets someone else drive. Sam lets Jack drive because she's still tired. At some point she knows she will have to wake up to the fact that she doesn't know where they are or where they're going. But for right now, she doesn't care.  
  
--  
  
One year, five months, and two weeks after the world is saved, the news media are still hounding the area around a small town in Wyoming. Even nearby Laramie is getting bombarded once they learn that young Cassandra Fraiser is at school there.  
  
--  
  
"We accept."  
  
She can't believe she's said it until Jack blinks at her. "We do?"  
  
"I mean--"  
  
Daniel sighs, "You guys do understand that you'll never be able to come back?"  
  
Which is a damn ironic thing for him to say, but she doesn't smile. "Yes."  
  
"Sam--"  
  
Her hand touches his shoulder, "I won't go without you, Jack. But I am going."  
  
They're somewhere near Seattle. She got that much out of Barrett before he disappeared three days ago. Daniel arriving on their new doorstep had only interrupted her making dinner. He is tired and drawn and worn down, and she knows that some of it is the never-ending struggle to go on. To be the last of SG-1 involved in the Stargate Program (with Teal'c off helping the rebel jaffa discover how difficult self-government is. Jonas is still with the Kelownans, although he apparently sends home notes and requests for hair gel. And she and Jack are dead, of course).  
  
Jack looks at her and sighs, "If this is what you want."  
  
"But is this what you want?"  
  
He simply looks at her, then glances at Daniel. "They'll never leave us alone, will they."  
  
"Oh, I'm sure, in time," Daniel shoves his hands in his pockets and hunches his shoulders. He is worn down from constant barrages by press and sycophants alike. "They haven't stopped with me, though."  
  
"You should come with us." Sam lets the words out before thinking them through fully.  
  
Daniel stiffens and drops his head to stare at the floor, "They would never let me."  
  
"Tell them you need to be there to help with the translations. For cryin' out loud, Daniel, they OWE you this chance to be free of fame." She's glad that Jack can see what she sees. The retired (dead) General moves to place a hand on Daniel's shoulder. "Think of it as an extended vacation."  
  
"Like you are?" But there isn't mockery in his tone.  
  
"Yep."  
  
"I--"  
  
"Ask, Daniel." Sam moves to put her arm around this man who has been her friend through thick and thin for longer than she likes to recall. "All they can do is say no."  
  
"Then Sam and I will smuggle you into our luggage."  
  
A grin tugs at Daniel's lips. "What luggage?"  
  
Which is a point. They barely have anything to their names since they left in such a hurry. But, then, if Daniel's suggestion is doable, the US Government will fund a good clothes-shopping spree. Sam grimaces. BDUs again. God. She was sick of them then, and she is sick of them now. But this chance -- this opportunity...  
  
Pegasus might be far away, but at least it will be something to do. Something they both can do, even if they end up finding a mostly deserted planet and disappearing forever. But she knows him, and knows herself now.  
  
-- 


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimers: Previously.  
  
Coconut Island, Chapter Five.  
  
One year, six months and four days after the world is safe from communism, Earth opens the gate to Pegasus and hustles through another batch of supplies. Along with them go retired General Jacob Carter and his symbiote Selmac, as the first Tok'ra ambassadors to Pegasus; Dr. Daniel Jackson (leaving Colonels Davis and Feretti in charge of the SGC); and two unnamed civilian consultants.  
  
--  
  
In the bustle of people and stuff coming through the gate, the two of them aren't noticed. Sam leans against a wall and watches as more and more people come through. Daniel is still on the other side directing the traffic. They considered bringing Cassie through, but there were other considerations (her schooling, the war zone) and so she is simply transferring to another school. Barrett has promised to keep an eye on her.  
  
"Nice wall." Jack mutters.  
  
Sam shifts closer and settles her arm around his waist. "Better than reporters and flashbulbs." She is still getting used to being this ungainly. At six months, and she feels like a god-damned house on stilts.  
  
They're still being ignored by Atlantis at large when Daniel steps through, followed by her father. Sam blinks twice, then feels Jack stiffen beside her. A hundred thoughts crowd her head. Why is her father there? When did he get in? Why didn't Daniel tell them? What will he say? Nervously, she wraps her hand around one of Jack's belt loops. Neither of the two men have spotted them yet. In fact, Dr. Weir (looking slightly world weary) is greeting them off to one side. She seems to be smiling.  
  
"Carter--"  
  
"I didn't know."  
  
His arm tightens around her shoulders. "Think he'll..."  
  
"I don't know. I don't know at all." She recalls having told Cassie about her plans. Having known that she would have to cut herself off from everyone she loved. Mark, her father -- of course, at the time, her father was god knew where, running errands for the Tok'ra, and there was no way to tell him that she wasn't dead. And considering how Daniel took her resurrection...  
  
Daniel and Dr. Weir and Jacob leave the area, walking off talking animatedly. Daniel doesn't even look around for them, and Sam wonders if he is waiting to let them get used to being there or if this is obscure revenge.  
  
Probably the latter.  
  
"Think we should..." Jack gestures with his free hand.  
  
"No." If she could make the wall open up and swallow her, she would. "I'm staying right here."  
  
His lips twitch, she notes as she glances at him sideways. But he doesn't say anything more, and they watch as the last of the supplies come through and the gate powers down. People continue bustling around, directing the flow of supplies to this store room and that lab and the people to this section of the city for barracks. Finally, the large room is empty again, the only sound that of a city at rest (or possibly the machinery that keep it running) and the occasional voice from up above in the operations room.  
  
"Well..."  
  
"Yeah."  
  
They lapse into silence again, neither willing to take that next step which will bring them to the attention of other people. They had enjoyed being in their idyllic little world -- and now the house of cards has fallen down around their ears.  
  
"Oh, there you are." Daniel's voice comes from above, and they turn their heads up to find he and Jacob and Dr. Weir and Dr. McKay staring down at them.  
  
"You're supposed to be dead." McKay sounds almost whiny.  
  
"Sorry for disappointing you," Sam replies dryly.  
  
"Hey, Sam." Her father is looking at her, his expression blank.  
  
"Dad, I--"  
  
"It's all right. Teal'c told me the truth. I've had," he pauses and sighs, "Months to get used to you not being dead. I'm still not all that happy about it, though." He turns his gaze to Jack. "And you, mister. What the hell are you thinking about, dying and then getting yourself attached to my daughter?"  
  
"She seems to like me."  
  
"Da-ad."  
  
"For the record," Weir says, her voice interrupting them although her lips are twitching. "It's very good to have you aboard, Mr. and Mrs. Smith."  
  
"Mrs.?" Sam glares at Daniel. "So, what, I missed my own wedding?"  
  
At the same time, Jack says: "For cryin' out loud, I haven't even asked her yet!"  
  
"But, I thought..."  
  
The two of them glance uncomfortably at each other.  
  
"They're already joined at the hip," Daniel says dryly. "I figured this was simply a good cover story."  
  
"Married." Her hand is still wrapped around the belt loop on his jeans and he hasn't taken his arm from her shoulders. Then she pauses as her brain catches up with her hearing. "You were going to ask me?"  
  
"Eventually." If he could have, he would have shoved his hands in his pockets and shuffled his feet. Instead he simply meets her gaze with one of his own. "When it felt... right."  
  
"And if it never did?" Her voice is a whisper, and she knows this is part of the healing process. Of finding each other and working through years of denial and sublimation and just plain stupidity.  
  
"I could always die again."  
  
"Ah." Her eyes close, and she leans her forehead against his shoulder. "Jack?"  
  
"Hrm?"  
  
"Will you marry me?"  
  
"They're so sickeningly cute. Dr. Weir, did they bring airsick bags with them?" McKay was definitely unchanged  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Good." Sam tilts her head back up, "Hey, dad?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"Did you bring enough money to fund an intergalactic wedding?"  
  
"Hey, Daniel, this means you gotta give me away," Jack calls.  
  
The archeologist-linguist-diplomat snickers. "If you two are done, can we please get on with the business of orienting ourselves to being in a new galaxy?"  
  
--  
  
One year, seven months and five days, and the battle with the Wraith is becoming something that almost seems manageable. Some tacticians caution that this isn't going to be so easy.  
  
Meanwhile, the rumor circulates that O'Neill and Carter have been having an affair since she was a Captain in the Gulf.  
  
--  
  
They have been in Pegasus long enough to know their way around Atlantis blindfolded. Sam works daily in the labs (when Beckett isn't hounding her to take it easy -- Jack, of course, knows better, and simply ambushes her with sex or back rubs that leave her relaxed and sleepy) alongside Zelenka, Grodin and McKay. They're all very good at their jobs, and while she catches up, she knows they are running rings around her when it comes to this new technology.  
  
Jack learned to drive puddlejumpers and ferries supplies around, sometimes to the Athosian encampments on the mainland, other times through the gate. She knows he is happier now than he was before.  
  
Perhaps they both need something to do.  
  
The balconies on Atlantis are some of the most beautiful places. Majestic views of miles of sea on one side, and massive towering spires of city on the other. As Sam steps out onto one she's begun to think of as her favorite, she finds her father there. Indecision almost leads her back inside, but she knows they need to talk.  
  
"Dad."  
  
"Hey."  
  
Sam moves to stand next to her father, gazing out over the vast stretch of water that Atlantis floats on. "So..."  
  
"Was living with Pete really that hard?"  
  
Not a question she was really expecting. She is silent, watching the ripples in the water until a sigh escapes her. "In comparison?"  
  
"To what?"  
  
"Women who are abused, who aren't loved, who spend every day wondering if they'll survive?"  
  
"Okay."  
  
"Then, no, it wasn't." She wonders, as she wondered the day she walked into Barrett's office and told him she wanted to die, if this could have simply been easier if she'd just told Pete no.  
  
"And compared to Jack?"  
  
"Yes. That's the rub, isn't it."  
  
"He was your commanding officer."  
  
"He is my friend now, Dad." And lover and the only person who understands every mood and withstands them all without protest. Just as she does for him. But she doesn't feel the need to tell her father what it's like living with Jack O'Neill in daily life.  
  
"And more."  
  
"Yes."  
  
"You're happy with him."  
  
"Generally." Honesty is now her policy, even if it hurts. "There are days I want to kill him, dad. But..."  
  
"But you don't." A snort. "I still wish..."  
  
"Yeah. Me too."  
  
--  
  
One year, nine months and seven minutes after the world is safe for democracy, Cassandra Fraiser graduates from a fast-track program and settles into an internship. Meanwhile, the SGC still continues to shuttle personnel and equipment to the Pegasus galaxy for the on-going war with the Wraith.  
  
No one has been able to find O'Neill or Carter, and the media frenzy slowly dies down with nothing further to fuel the fire.  
  
--  
  
Atlantis is shades of green and blue and orange and red, colors which tug at the eyes, which call forth thoughts of life and carnival and joy. For Sam Carter, right at this moment, it only makes her more irritated and (arguably) pissier.  
  
"I'm going to kill him."  
  
"Sam, you can't--"  
  
"Daniel." Her voice cuts off with a gasp as another contraction takes away her focus. The hand she's grasping doesn't break under her hold, but she knows Daniel will have bruises in the morning.  
  
"You're doing just fine," calls Dr. Beckett.  
  
"Fine. I'll give him -- OW -- fine."  
  
Daniel's free hand strokes her forehead. "Sam, he'll be all right. Sheppard just needed his help with this negotiation."  
  
"Well, good for -- him."  
  
She doesn't want to remember how long she's been in labor. Dr. Beckett never lets on, but she knows he is worried -- between the naquadah in her blood, the protein marker, and her age this could be a difficult birthing. It is difficult (at least she's assuming it is, considering this is her first child -- and ONLY, if the father doesn't get his ass back here).  
  
Time slides away from her, and she knows only the constant push and pull from her abdomen. Her entire body then becomes active in expelling this child.  
  
Eventually, she hears Beckett coaxing her. Push here. Wait there. Push, push, push.  
  
A baby's cry splits the air, and Sam suddenly comes back to the present, focusing on the fussing, crying infant Beckett is handing to a nurse to clean. "Congratulations, Colonel Carter. It's a girl."  
  
The Colonel sounds wrong, but she doesn't pay attention, eyes filled with nothing except the child. "Can I hold her?" Her voice sounds tired and disused.  
  
The nurse smiles and steps up, laying the tiny baby on her chest. Sam carefully touches her, tracing a line across the cheek of her daughter. Her daughter. "Ma'am?" The nurse's voice is tentative. "We need to clean her up the rest of the way, check her out."  
  
"Hrm?" Sam refocuses on the woman, then looks down at the child she has created. "Oh. Right."  
  
They take the infant, and Sam finally notices that Daniel is still sitting next to her, his head propped on one hand. "Hey."  
  
"She's beautiful."  
  
"Yeah." Smiling through her sudden tears, Sam shifts, aware suddenly of feeling strangely empty. And wistful.  
  
"Sam?" The tentative voice from the doorway draws her eyes.  
  
"Hey, dad." A blush stains her cheeks as she remembers yelling at him to go the fuck away some time before.  
  
He comes to the bed, looks down at her, "You ok?"  
  
"Yeah." She catches his hand. There are so many things she regrets about the last four years. Seeing her father again is not one of them. "I'm sorry I kicked you out earlier, I just--"  
  
"It's all right." His free hand strokes through her hair. "I'm just glad you're all right."  
  
A commotion at the entrance to the infirmary resolves itself into Jack O'Neill, John Sheppard and Teyla. The latter limping between the two men, her voice softly filling the air with colorful curses in both English, Ancient and Egyptian. Sam is amused by this, Daniel has spent more and more time with the Athosian woman. Beckett bustles in from where they took her child, and glares.  
  
"I thought I told you no more injuries!"  
  
"Sorry, Doc," Sheppard says, his tone laconic. "There was this stubborn root, and Teyla fell, and--"  
  
"I took an arrow in the thigh, Doctor." Her voice dry, Teyla settles carefully onto a bed. "I sincerely apologize for making O'Neill late for the birth of his child."  
  
"The-- what--"  
  
Sam has seen Jack O'Neill speechless very few times. But this one has to take the cake. "Daniel, I thought someone was going to meet him so he knew?"  
  
"They must have missed them."  
  
"Hey, Colonel, congratulations." Sheppard tips a salute at her, then ungently shoves Jack.  
  
"Carter?"  
  
"I'm not speaking to you."  
  
"Ah, Sam?"  
  
Jack swallows convulsively and steps towards her, "Sam--"  
  
"I'm joking." Sort of. But it is kind of irritating that the one person she really wanted to be there wasn't. A smile touches her lips and she meets his eyes with her own. "She's beautiful, Jack."  
  
"Can I see her?"  
  
Sam pulls herself into a sitting position and shifts until she can let her legs over the side of the bed. Beckett is still busy with Teyla's wound. "Yep. C'mon, boys, help a mother out here."  
  
Mother. It's such a strange title to apply to herself. And damn scary.  
  
Daniel hastily slides an arm around her waist and together they get her standing. Jack takes her other side, and she can smell the dirt and sweat on him and feels irrationally jealous that he was out in the field and she was stuck here in unending torment.  
  
The walk to the other room is short, and the nurse looks up at them and frowns when she sees Sam standing between the two men. But she lets them approach the bed where the infant is sleeping. Sam is beginning to regret this whole walking thing, and wonders if all women feel like they've been hit by a truck after giving birth.  
  
"Wow." Jack's arm tightens around her.  
  
"Have you decided what to name her?" The nurse tilts her head at them, "We need to know what to put on her chart."  
  
"Olivia." Sam says.  
  
"Last name?"  
  
"Well, technically... Carter."  
  
"I thought it was Smith, this week," Daniel says dryly.  
  
"No wedding yet. She's still a Carter." What with Jack suddenly discovering he could go off-world again, and Sam trying to get up-to-date on all of the new things the Atlantis expedition had uncovered, they Generally didn't have time off unless they were asleep. Or having sex. But you can't have a wedding while you're having sex.  
  
"Olivia Carter." The nurse is suppressing a grin as she writes quickly. "Middle name?"  
  
"Elly."  
  
Sam tilts her head, then nods. "That works."  
  
"Elly?" Daniel looks at Jack, "Where'd that come from?"  
  
"Nowhere."  
  
"Uh-huh." He sounds unconvinced.  
  
Sam isn't all that convinced, either. But she doesn't press, just guess that Jack is naming their daughter after Lieutenant Elliott. "Just be glad we didn't name her Daniella Georgina Tealketta." She mutters.  
  
"AHEM." The throat-clearing from the door is accompanied by a very irritated-looking Beckett. "And who said you could get out of bed, Colonel?"  
  
"No one." She meets his gaze, refusing to back down. After all, she'd defied Janet Fraiser on occasion. Beckett holds little fear. "And it's not Colonel anymore, damnit."  
  
"Fine. Whatever. Back into bed with you, young lady."  
  
She rolls her eyes at him, but complies. It's becoming harder and harder to remain upright. Apparently, having a child is hard work. Jack and Daniel get her back to the bed and she curls up, dragging the blanket around her. Her dad hovers nearby, watching them all.  
  
--  
  
Two years after the world becomes safe for humanity, the Tok'ra - Earth Alliance begins to crumble at the edges as they argue over how exactly to deal with the Wraith. The Tok'ra are contemptuous regarding this new threat, assuming that the humans are blowing it out of proportion. The Tau'ri, on the other hand, believe this is a great threat to the entire galaxy.  
  
--  
  
The lights are on again. Sam frowns as she steps into the room, eyeing the child sleeping in the middle of the bed. Olivia is barely three months old and has already charmed the hell out of every person who comes across her. Sam figures this is Jack's genes showing through, he keeps saying its hers. One strange anomaly is that they keep finding the lights to their quarters switched on at strange times.  
  
"Heya, kiddo." Walking over and sitting down, Sam reaches out to touch the child and then stops, tilting her head to the side.  
  
Big blue eyes are staring at her, innocent and unknowing.  
  
And the lights are on. And Jack has the Ancient's gene. Her eyes close as her brain finally makes the connection. "Oh, dear. Olivia, honey, you're going to be a holy terror, aren't you."  
  
The baby makes a gurgling noise.  
  
"Sam?" Daniel comes in from the other room, "I was just using.... the lights are on. Did you turn them on?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Oh-kay." He pushes his glasses up his nose. "Then who did?"  
  
"She did."  
  
"Sam, she's a baby."  
  
"Yep. And she has Jack's special Ancient genes." Probably. It was something they could have Beckett test.  
  
"That's, uh, interesting."  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Well, I've got to go. Teyla and I are running over some translations together, and then--"  
  
"You and Teyla?" She wonders if they could have gotten back to this level of friendship if they had stayed on Earth, and knows it wouldn't have worked. Too much time spent apart and they had already drifted too much. She can be thankful for this new cliche on life, if it's given her back her friend.  
  
"Ye-es." Daniel eyes her, "Sam."  
  
"What?"  
  
"No match-making."  
  
"Yes, Daniel."  
  
"I'm serious. Besides, Teyla has a thing for Sheppard."  
  
"Ok."  
  
When he is gone, she sits on the bed, looking at her child. And wonders what the future will bring.  
  
-f- 


End file.
